


Approximation

by fictionalthirst



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward Crush, M/M, Pining, Probably not though, Sort of? - Freeform, Unrequited Crush, Voyeurism, of course, so much pining, touch-shy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalthirst/pseuds/fictionalthirst
Summary: Gladiolus Amicitia wouldn’t consider himself shy by any means. Reserved, maybe, until he gets to know someone, but definitely notafraidto be himself, or to act when he wants to show affection. He’s usually fairly easy with throwing an arm over a shoulder, or ruffling the hair of someone shorter than himself, or, on occasion, with those he is very,veryfamiliar with, a friendly pat on the ass.See? Notshy.So why the hell can’t he bring himself to touch Prompto Argentum?
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	Approximation

Gladiolus Amicitia wouldn’t consider himself shy by any means. Reserved, maybe, until he gets to know someone, but definitely not _afraid_ to be himself, or to act when he wants to show affection. He’s usually fairly easy with throwing an arm over a shoulder, or ruffling the hair of someone shorter than himself, or, on occasion, with those he is very, _very_ familiar with, a friendly pat on the ass.

See? Not _shy_.

So why the hell can’t he bring himself to touch Prompto Argentum?

They’ve known each other for a few months now, ever since the younger man passed basic defense training and moved up into offensive combat. Gladio was brought on to teach Prompto the basics of hand to hand, while he trained with another Crownsguardsman in marksmanship and other long range weaponry.

They hadn’t gotten along at first, but it was mostly because Gladio was a bit miffed at the idea that a completely green civilian would be joining along on the trip to deliver Noctis to his bride. It seemed like a liability.

But Prompto had proven a quick study, and Gladio had begun to grudgingly respect the guy’s determination and drive. Prompto would probably never be as skilled as Gladio, Ignis or Noctis, but he would be able to hold his own when the need arose.

A month ago, the journey had begun, the four of them were thrown into the worst scenarios imaginable, and Gladio watched as Prompto blossomed. The shorter man had taken to battle as though he were born for it, as Gladio had been. There had been times in the past week that Gladio simply stood back and watched, waiting to see if he needed to bail the prince and his friend out, only for Prompto and Noctis to execute some pretty impressive moves together, obliterating the enemy.

Of course, there was always something bigger and badder around the corner, so Gladio felt secure in his necessity to the mission.

A month in close combat and quarters had affected them all, Gladio knew, but something else had crept in when he wasn’t looking. Or rather, while he was looking very intently.

Gladio watches Prompto quite often, at first under the auspices of concern for both Noctis’s sake and Prompto’s own safety, but now with more personal intent.

Prompto stands a few feet away from Gladio at the edge of the haven, his camera in his hands, the viewfinder tucked against his chest rather than up to his eye. He is looking out at the scenery, watching the sun begin to sink over the tops of the trees, enjoying the quiet moment as the sounds of cooking clink from Ignis’s spot at the makeshift kitchen. The fading glow of the sun casts a rosy hue to his pale face, freckles dusted over his cheeks in a loving caress of sunlight. Longish lashes catch the last of the rays, and a small smile plays about the corner of his lips.

He’s a pretty thing, Gladio thinks.

Prompto returns to his folding chair to look through his photos from today, and Gladio wants to go over to him, throw an arm over his shoulders and look through the images alongside him. Compliment him just a little bit, to watch his cheeks flush and listen to his stammered thanks. Wants to ruffle his soft-looking hair and trail fingers down his neck teasingly as he walks away to talk to Iggy, leaving a stuttering mess behind.

It’s what he would do if Prompto didn’t matter so much.

He can’t bring himself to lay hands on what he can’t have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They’ve once again cleared out the waterfall area hiding the glacial cave that leads to another of Noctis’s ancestor’s tombs, and Prompto has convinced them to take a dip in the icy waters. The afternoon is sweltering; the heat seeming to follow them from Lestallum.

Gladio can’t really complain about the dalliance.

For one thing, Noctis seems a bit more cheerful than he has in weeks, and that’s worth its weight in gil if Gladio doesn’t have to sit next to a bellyaching prince in the back of the Regalia for at least a few hours. Noctis is already pulling off his boots, throwing them aside eagerly.

Ignis is, of course, acting too dignified to strip down and swim in his underwear in broad daylight, but Prompto just pats him on the back and pushes him closer to the shore.

Once Prompto has Ignis convinced, it’s only a matter of time before he turns those violet eyes on Gladio, a mischievous grin quirking up the sides of his mouth as he advances, wiggling his fingers.

“Don’t make me push you in, Big Guy,” He threatens with all of the menace of a newborn kitten.

Gladio almost wants him to, if it means he’ll feel Prompto’s hands on him.

“Sure, buddy,” Gladio says, instead, trying to maintain his air of indifference. “That’s definitely something you could do.”

Prompto cuffs him in the arm. “Making fun of me, huh? I can’t help it if I’m not a giant.”

“Giant mouth, though,” Gladio remarks, smirking down at the death glare Prompto is pointing his way. “Better get those off or I’m gonna toss you in.”

Prompto colors, beautifully, and Gladio definitely makes a note to make him do that again.

“You, too,” Prompto huffs, starting to tug down the zipper of his vest. “If you get the car wet, Ignis’ll kick your ass.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Gladio smiles, watching out of the corner of his eye as he slips his thin tank top over his head and begins to unbutton his jeans.

Prompto has too many layers, and Gladio doesn’t have enough of them to be able to stay and watch him pull them all off. He’s able to observe just long enough to see Prompto’s upper body exposed, his frame small but muscular, stomach dimpled with the hint of abs under the smooth, pale skin. Freckles matching his cheeks dot all over his shoulders and upper arms, stray sprays of them over his chest, a few prominent ones dancing near his puckered, petal pink nipples.

Gladio reaches into the pocket of his pants to grab an elastic, and ties his hair back before he lowers his pants to the ground, toeing off his shoes and socks in the process. The ground beneath them is nothing but rocks, but they’re river-smoothed and warm. Prompto doesn’t even have his belt undone yet.

“I think the last one in the water is on dish duty tonight,” Gladio calls out, for the others to hear, quirking one eyebrow as he backs into the water, the frigid liquid chilling him as it quickly overtakes his thighs.

“You have like two layers to take off, you exhibitionist,” Prompto complains, rushing to beat Ignis, who is setting his clothes aside with care and attention, and is only down to his slacks.

“Ignis, hurry,” Noctis yells from the pool, hair already plastered to his head, completely soaked.

“I’ll only have to wash them again after he’s done,” Ignis calls back, grinning at Prompto’s indignant sputtering.

“You guys are dicks,” Prompto grumbles, shucking off his pants and kicking them away, behind himself.

Gladio bobs in the current, watching the reveal of his slightly thick thighs, dimpled with gooseflesh in the cool mist of the waterfall. Gladio knows, from casual conversation, that Prompto is a runner, and that his legs would be corded with muscle. It’s one thing to know a fact, and another to be confronted with the reality.

Prompto is such a slight man, but with the softness comes a toned, subtle strength, so opposed to Gladio’s own flashy, obvious build.

Prompto bends to pull off his socks, shoes kicked away haphazardly, and Gladio drinks in the sight of his trunk-style briefs, hugging tight around his slim waist and backside. They’re blue with tiny cactuars dancing around on them, but the novelty design does nothing to quell the sudden dryness in Gladio’s throat.

A spray of water hits Gladio in the side of the face just before Noctis barrels into him and drags him under.

He could probably do with cooling his head a little.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The four of them splash around in the pool for longer than they planned, the afternoon settling closer evening before Ignis advises that they leave the water to dry off a bit in the sun before putting their clothing back on.

Gladio drags himself and Noctis out of the stream, the prince struggling to get free of Gladio’s strong arm around him. He lets Noctis go, saving the younger man’s dignity, and squeezes out his ponytail as he watches the prince follow Ignis to a particularly huge, smooth rock that sits directly in a sunbeam.

Prompto is shivering as he exits the water, arms hugged around his chest tightly as he gingerly steps across the smooth rocks to find another boulder to perch on. Gladio tries not to stare at the clinging front of his underwear, instead focusing on pulling the elastic from his wet hair, careful not to rip too many strands out.

“Need help with that, Big Guy?” Prompto asks, shaking his head to one side, hitting some water out of his ear.

“Maybe,” Gladio confesses, although he’s pretty sure he’ll be able to untangle it, he can’t resist the chance for Prompto to touch him. He pads over to the boulder, settling himself on the warm edge, and presenting his back to Prompto.

“Yeah, there’s quite the tangle back here,” Prompto confirms, forearms braced against Gladio’s shoulders as his fingers pick delicately through the snarls stuck in the elastic. “Must’ve happened when Noct kept pushing you under.”

“You mean when I kept _letting_ Noct push me under,” Gladio boasts, though Noctis really did manage to dunk him once.

“Sure, sure,” Prompto chuckles, and it warms Gladio through to his core.

He feels the elastic freed, his wet strands lightly slapping against his back as they spring loose, and Prompto taps his shoulder, handing over the small purple band.

“Thanks,” Gladio says, leaning forward, but Prompto stops him with a hand and begins to card his fingers through Gladio’s hair, so, so gently.

“Wish I’d brought my brush from the car,” Prompto says, voice low and mellow.

“Mmm,” Gladio answers, eyes closed and remaining still, even as Prompto’s fingers pull slightly through the clinging wet strands.

A soft hand presses to his shoulder blade, a signal that he’s done all he could, and Gladio glances back, finding Prompto settling with his knees drawn up to his chest, arms encircling them as he looks down the coast to where Noctis and Ignis are laying peacefully on their boulder, catching the sun’s warmth.

“This was a great idea,” Gladio comments, pulling himself further up the rock to lay beside Prompto, arms pillowing his head behind him. He closes his eyes, not wanting Prompto to be able to see what is behind them, should he look down to respond to Gladio’s words.

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, the sounds of shifting following, and Gladio opens one eye to find that Prompto has laid down next to him, one arm under his head as the smaller man looks at him. A small smile spreads across his lips for a moment before giving way to a much different expression, and Gladio’s heart clenches.

He wants to lean over, to seal his lips against Prompto’s, to press a broad hand to the bump of his hipbone so enticingly leading down into his trunks, to press their chests together and bask in the dimming sunlight.

“It will be dark soon,” Ignis calls out, drawing both of their attention, Gladio’s heart stuttering as he remembers that it’s not just him and Prompto in the world. “We should be getting to shelter.”

Prompto pulls himself back up, sliding off the boulder and gathering his clothes.

Gladio watches as he hastily tugs his pants on, wondering if Prompto is having a similar problem to himself, his wet boxer briefs tugging just slightly more uncomfortably in the front. Just slightly.

He hunts down all of his clothing and drags them onto his still damp body, carrying his shoes and socks as they traipse down the river and to the car. There’s another haven nearby, but they’ll have to get their supplies first.

A little hard labor should calm him down.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter, @fictionalthirst


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